


Dinner is Served

by Aneiria



Series: The Pirates of Hogsmeade [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1000 word fic, Ficlet, Lots of Cats, M/M, Muggle AU, Pirates AU, Rivals to Lovers, hogsmeade series, little bit smutty at the end, pirate blaise, pirate neville
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:47:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29664033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aneiria/pseuds/Aneiria
Summary: While the ships are docked at Hogsmeade, Blaise Zabini has a quest of his own, and it involves a certain ship's cook...
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Blaise Zabini
Series: The Pirates of Hogsmeade [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153448
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Dinner is Served

Blaise Zabini was a cheating bastard.

He knew it, his crew knew it, his captain knew it.

The only ones who didn’t know it were the ones he played.

Blaise sauntered along the deck of the _Slytherin_ , where Bloody Baron, their silver-coated ship’s cat, lay sprawled on his side in the afternoon sun. The cat opened one lazy green eye, and stretched out with a satisfied purr. Blaise smiled, reached into the leather pouch at his belt, and withdrew a precious morsel of cooked chicken.

Baron’s eyes flew open completely, and he gave a demanding yowl that made Flint and Montague, washing down the deck nearby, look up in surprise. Blaise smiled at the cat, and let him snatch the chicken from his fingers.

‘Enjoy, Baron,’ he murmured, and turned his back on the cat and his shipmates, making his way to the dock.

Little did Baron know, but Blaise had more chicken in his pouch.

Blaise strode along the dock, the _Slytherin_ behind him, and looked up at the red-sailed _Gryffindor_ , berthed opposite. It was a few weeks since the two crews had paired up to fight at Diagon Island; since their captains - and their first mates, unbelievably - had partnered up. Soon, they’d be back at sea. But before then, Blaise had a conquest of his own.

Blaise climbed up to the the _Gryffindor_ , giving the Weasley twins, booted feet up on the railings as they kept watch, a smirk and a salute as he passed. They waved merrily back, and Blaise walked along the deck, descended the rickety stairs to the hold, until he reached the galley.

It was dark and seemingly empty, pots and pans and tureens of chopped vegetables waiting to be made into dinner for scores of hungry pirates. Blaise put his hands on his hips, surveying the darkness, when a little chirrup of interest caught his attention. He ducked behind a rack of hanging game, crouching to stroke the squash-faced ginger cat sitting next to an empty food bowl.

‘How’s it going, Crookshanks?’ Blaise murmured, smiling as the cat pushed his flat face adoringly into Blaise’s palm. ‘I bought you something.’ He pulled the second chicken morsel from his pouch, and Crookshanks pounced.

‘Crookshanks, where are you? I’ve brought you some — _oh_.’ 

Neville Longbottom blustered around the corner, a fresh food bowl in hand, stumbling to a stop when he saw Blaise and Crookshanks. He put the bowl down.

‘Zabini,’ Neville greeted him coolly, crossing those delectable arms across his broad chest.

Blaise wanted to pin Neville Longbottom down and taste every inch of him. ‘Longbottom,’ he replied, delighting in the faint blush that rose on Neville’s cheeks, as if he could read Blaise’s mind. ‘I was just here to visit Crooks. But, you know,’ Blaise stepped into Neville’s space, breathing in the lemony scent of him, ‘I’ll be at The Three Muskets tonight. Maybe I can buy you a drink.’

Blaise let his fingers trail over Neville’s deliciously flat stomach, before sauntering away.

* * *

Neville didn’t know why he went to The Three Muskets, really.

It certainly wasn’t for Blaise Zabini, with his sharp cheekbones and his dark brown eyes and those wicked, curved lips. Neville just fancied a night away from the ship, that was all, and a glass of proper rum, and maybe to be cooked for, just for once, instead of being the one _doing_ the cooking.

When Neville walked in to the bustling pub, Padma smiling and waving from behind the bar, and felt his heart flutter uncontrollably as Blaise turned to face him from the counter, he wasn’t so convinced by his reasons.

Neville walked carefully over, slowly lowering himself to the stool next to Blaise. He had two glasses of rum in front of him, Neville noticed: one half-drunk, one untouched. Blaise gently pushed the untouched glass in front of Neville, and Neville picked it up and downed it, a touch faster than was probably wise.

Blaise just raised an eyebrow at him, and gave Padma a little wave. ‘Two more, please, sweetheart,’ he smiled, and it was a measure of Blaise Zabini’s natural charm that Padma didn’t curse him on the spot, instead pulling down the rum - the most expensive one, Neville noticed - and pouring out two fresh glasses.

‘Dinner is served,’ Padma smiled an hour later, as she placed two enormous bowls of stew and some fluffy fresh bread in front of them.

Blaise flashed Neville a knowing smirk. ‘Dinner is served, but _I’m_ looking forward to dessert,’ he murmured, only loud enough for Neville to hear, as he leaned closer to him, so Blaise’s long, lean thigh pressed tantalisingly close to Neville’s.

Neville felt the blush run through his entire body, and he hastily tucked into the still-too-hot stew to save from having to reply.

Neville didn’t really know _quite_ how he got there, that evening.

He certainly didn’t know how he got into Blaise’s bed, in a modest room above the pub, several hours later. Didn’t know how they’d both ended up naked, Blaise’s body hard and dark and _gorgeous_ beneath Neville’s clumsy hands. DIdn’t know how those wicked, curved lips smiled at him, then kissed him, then wrapped eagerly around his straining cock, as Neville panted and groaned and looked to the ceiling for absolution.

And much later, once they’d both already come over each other, covered in sweat and stickiness, Neville wasn’t quite sure how it was that Blaise rolled him onto his back, straddled his hips, and ridden him, tossed upon Neville like a ship on a stormy sea, until they both came again, on a wave of ecstasy, in the darkness of the silent night.

Neville wasn’t sure of much, on reflection, but as Blaise curled up like a contented cat in his arms, pressing a sleepy kiss on his bare chest and sighing happily, Neville was quite sure of one thing.

Blaise Zabini was _his,_ now, and Neville Longbottom was damned if Davy Jones himself could ever part them.


End file.
